


Breathing Easy

by defsoulformoreyehets



Category: Monsta X (Band), Red Velvet (K-pop Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Romance, Angst and Tragedy, Awkward Romance, Bisexual Character, Bisexual Female Character, Bisexuality, Boys In Love, Canon LGBTQ Character, Canon LGBTQ Female Character, Canon LGBTQ Male Character, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, College, Death, Depression, Developing Friendships, Drama & Romance, Eventual Romance, F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Female Friendship, Female Homosexuality, First Love, Flirty Shin Hoseok | Wonho, Forbidden Love, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gratuitous Smut, Heavy Angst, Homophobia, Homosexuality, Idiots in Love, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Female Character, LGBTQ Themes, Love Confessions, Love Triangles, Love/Hate, M/M, Male Friendship, Male Homosexuality, Male-Female Friendship, Multi, Platonic Romance, Romance, Romantic Friendship, Sad, Sad Lee Minhyuk (Monsta X), Slow Romance, Smut, Student Yoo Kihyun, Suicide, Top Yoo Kihyun, Tragic Romance, Unrequited Love, monsta x - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-10 20:47:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18415562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/defsoulformoreyehets/pseuds/defsoulformoreyehets
Summary: No one could have predicted what would happen when Minhyuk started an unexpected livestream on Facebook. The beginning of the video showed Minhyuk holding a bond paper that had three sentences in the middle written with a bold, red marker. His eyes were glassy and he had the widest smile on his face. His audience all waited for him to say something and ten seconds had passed but he was as still as a caricature of Pieta. Everyone became alarmed when they were suddenly gripped by the seriousness of the situation. It was then that they saw clearly the dark circles under his eyes and the sad determination in them. He was flooded with simultaneous messages from various people. A minute into the video, with Seulgi, Wonho, Kihyun, and the rest of the world helplessly watching, Minhyuk stood up and climbed to the banister. The livestream ran for exactly five minutes and 31 seconds with Minhyuk's lower body flailing like a paper doll. They all wanted to believe that no one could have predicted what happened. No one could have known that he would commit suicide by hanging himself. Except, when it ended, they were left with the impression that they were all responsible, somehow.





	1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

 

"Our daily, mundane lives have always been insignificant.”

It’s three in the afternoon on a busy, exhausting Friday. The second week of the semester is always the most dragging, because it's when the ecstasy from the first week starts to wear down. All traces of summer have dissipated to welcome the start of fall, and the students of Imperium University are hit by the reality that classes really have resumed. They are back on the battlefield, back with all the responsibilities waiting to bury them alive. Unfortunately, there are three more months – or 105 days, to be exact - until the holiday break. Three more months and, as long and tedious as that will be, it’s still not enough time for them to improve their GPAs.

Seulgi Kang isn’t the type to obsess over such things because she’s an effortlessly exceptional student. She’s an outstanding writer, a researcher with an eye for precision, and a great public speaker. She’s also vocal about her principles and is well-known by participating in various extracurricular activities within the university. It’s certain that she will graduate with Latin honors and a plethora of academic achievements, if not for that one grave mistake last semester. While she doesn’t usually worry about her performance, she worries about it now.

“They're exceedingly common to be of importance. The everyday is too ordinary to bear any weight within the grand domain of pure, intellectual thinking." Hyunwoo Son, an Assistant Professor for the Department of Anthropology, sits on a mahogany ladder-back chair right next to the 50-inch Samsung HD TV projecting a black-and-white portrait of Henri Lefebvre. He’s presenting an interesting dilation about cultural politics, and 18 out of the 20 students present pay their full attention to him.

“As opposed to the arts, where we have magnificent paintings by Rembrandt, Monet, and Raphael; towering sculptures of Bernini, Michelangelo, and Rodin; and classic literary pieces by Tolstoy, Hemingway, and Orwell; has brushing your teeth perhaps thrice a day ever brought forth any meaning to life? What is brushing the tangles away from your hair compared to the philosophies of Kant, Marx, or Machiavelli? Will riding the bus on the way to Imperium solve the greatest mysteries of the world just like science? Your routines, habits, the ways in which you survive on a daily basis, the things that you have been accustomed to because they occur within a cycle, how much worth do they have in comparison with products of human creativity?”

There are four red oak conference tables in the middle arranged into a wide U-shape, with the mouth facing a smaller leg table for the lecturer. In front is an enormous whiteboard full of scribbles from the previous period that covered the entire wall. Place on the outer portion of the conference tables are 25 brown camel back chairs where the students sit on. Hyunwoo is at one end, next the console table that holds the TV, and Seulgi is on the other with an unfamiliar guy sitting beside her. The rest of the room are made of casement windows with double roller blinds. It’s spacious and 20 more people can easily fit inside, if there are that many students who actually want to enlist in this particular class.

“I’m not sure about the others, but there are people who say they get possessed by the divinity during the few seconds of ejaculation and discover the universal truth,” Changkyun Im announces. All the male students guffaw while the female students smirk.

“Well, I’m grateful for that interjection and maybe we can find a more appropriate topic to include your sexual suppositions next time,” Prof. Hyunwoo blithely suggests, but it’s clear that he’s struggling to contain his amusement.

“Hey, isn’t masturbating part of the everyday life?” Changkyun continues with a cheeky expression. He shrugs and raises his eyebrows in mock confusion. “Imagine how many truths we uncover every single day only at the cost of a single spurt of semen.”

Upon hearing this, Seulgi’ face turns into a chagrin. She can't help insert herself in the diversion. “That’s sexist because only biological males secrete semen.” She looks deadpan at Changkyun. “Women were at the forefront of many breakthroughs. Their names have been associated with countless inventions.”

“Why do you talk as if you’re not one of them?” he asks her, coyly. “In any case, it was just a harmless joke."

Jokes are integral to spreading prejudice, and they’re used as an excuse to subtly attack a person’s identity. Seulgi already has the beginning of a detailed retort in mind. Exasperated, she holds her breath to keep herself in check. As much as she would like to pursue a debate, it isn’t appropriate with the discussion that they’re having. It will only consume precious time that should be allotted for learning something new. She’ll give the point to Changkyun for this round and park it for later.

“Hell, what I know is you’re probably a lifeless dickhead if all you do is masturbate,” Hyungwon Chae, Seulgi’s best friend and most reliable back-up, cuts in. “And you need to see a shrink if you can’t keep your hands off your genitals.” He’s on the corner with his arms up and his hands locked on top of his head. They always sit next to each other, but he was 15 minutes late and someone else took his place. Seulgi isn’t comfortable with anyone aside from Hyungwon next to her, and she’s been stealing glances at him to show it.

Prof. Hyunwoo remains watchful of the students’ arguments and appears as if he has no intention of stopping them any time soon.

“If we’re still talking about discoveries,” the guy beside Seulgi says slowly, “I don’t think all of them occurred inside a laboratory or an office. You can definitely come up with a good storyline while sitting inside an ongoing train, looking out onto the blur of passing trees.” He’s wearing a black, Nike baseball cap with the bill veiling his eyes. Seulgi tries to take a peek from underneath by gradually bending forward. He has fair skin and she can see him bite his lower lip. His biceps are well-defined and the veins on his arms pop out each time he clenches his fists. He’s shaking his right foot that's wearing a Nike Air Max 270 and it’s distracting.

“How romantic,” comments someone from across the room, making Seulgi snap out of her stupor. She immediately straightens her back and focuses on the screen. She definitely has never seen him before. They have never been in the same class prior to this. He’s either a transferee or a student from a different college who’s there as an elective.

“Why not create a realist painting of men shaving their ball sacs?” Changkyun prompts.

“That’s disgusting,” one of the female students complains.

“For the sake of understanding the human mind, why not?” Changkyun responds.

“As entertaining as all of this is,” Prof. Hyunwoo declares after clapping his hands once, “you can continue your friendly banters outside. I want to acknowledge Wonho’s point.” He points at Nike guy next to Seulgi. “We have so far been alienated as ordinary people that we no longer feel connected to our daily existence. Being alienated removes us from being able to maximize our potentials, we cannot control our full capacities, and we are disempowered. This is due to the fact that our everyday lives were far too petty, far too commonplace to carry any positive value. Henri Lefebvre posited that there was a duality between bodily experiences and the cogitative processes.”

“Most likely another hierarchy,” Seulgi recites. “The intellectuals – comprised of rich, white men – versus the ordinary folk of colored, hired hands.”

“Yes, that is,” Prof. Hyunwoo rubs the tip of his nose, “that is quite correct. Lefebvre, a sociologist that was highly influenced by Marx, was against this type of duality. The philosophical idealism, for him, is devoid of the elements of concrete, social practices. Mind you, he was a renowned thinker from the 1920s up until the time of his death in 1991, which meant that the world has entered the stage of capitalism. Industries have boomed and within them rose the new category of what Seulgi called as the hired hands, which are the wage workers or the laborers.”

“We still have hired hands in agricultural Asian countries,” Seulgi contends. “The landlords of vast parcels of haciendas will need more than several people to manage them.”

“Oh, farmers,” Nike, or Wonho, notes innocently. He turns his head towards her, and it immediately makes Seulgi self-conscious. Who is this guy?

“For someone who prides herself in being progressive, you sure like to use obsolete words,” Changkyun observes.

Seulgi tries not to roll her eyes. “These farmers do not own their land. Since their systems are still feudalistic with the master and slave relationship between the landlords and the farmers, they are still, essentially, hired hands.”

“That is for sure, and Lefebvre postulated that idealism distances itself away from their labor,” Prof. Hyunwoo proceeds. “He believed that that should not be the case, because it is in the day-to-day that we develop ourselves. From the everyday springs our ability to desire, to discern our wants and needs, to build our potentials, and to acquire power. It is where we learn, where we become aware of contradictions. Dialectics happen everyday, and it is within this dialectic interaction that we employ reasoning, logical arguments, and discourse to come up with material truths.”

Seulgi is fascinated by the discussion and she intends to learn more about Lefebvre. Come to think of it, the entire Socialist dogma is intriguing for her; from the early Orthodox Socialism, Marxism, and then to Neo-Marxism. These are tumultuous times in her country. Given their current political situation, where there is turmoil and an increasing gap between the rich and the poor, people will need to choose where they stand. Once everyone sees how filthy the hegemonic Western ideals of development are, the rise of revolutionaries is inevitable. People are already engaging in a heated discourse over the atrocities of the incumbent administration, soon they will revolt against the global, oppressive Capitalist system.

The class continues as Seulgi gets trapped inside her own thought bubble. She’s in her third year in college, and she needs to be ready for her upcoming thesis proposal. Whoever said college is easy must have been way over their head. She’s aware about her strengths, and she’s more inclined towards gender studies compared to other fields.

She has two probable subject matters in mind. First, the difference in the mental attitude of the young victims of incest rape in a specific Asian community. Second, how the varying lifestyles of sex workers in a red district affect their perception of sexual positivity. What’s hindering her are the ethical considerations for such sensitive themes. How will she relate it to Anthropology as her discipline? Which community will she gather her data from? Where will she get the primary sources for her research? Who will she interview supposing, of course, that someone will consent to be a subject of the study?

“I’m assuming you all know each other,” Prof. Hyunwoo lightly taps on Seulgi’s section of the table. She wasn’t aware of him walking around, and he must have noticed her distraction. “We’re a small college, after all. I want you to divide yourselves into seven groups. There are 20 students enrolled in this course, so that would make each group composed of two to three individuals. You can team up with your friends if you’re willing to risk destroying your friendship once you find out they are deadweights, I won’t care.”

Several students snigger as they recall how often that has happened to many of them. He hands out a copy of the two-paged syllabus to each of them. “This is for reporting, which is 20% of your total grade. The initial four groups should be ready by next week. They will be allotted 30 minutes each to comprehensively discuss their chosen topics. We will use the remaining hour for any contentions. There are 16 chapters for Rao and Walton’s Culture and Public Action, and each group should pick just one. Not everything is included, of course, and we will have a first come, first served basis in picking out a topic. I will send the details to your university e-mails later.”

Hyungwon winks at Seulgi to signify that they’re automatic partners. She imitates a raygun using her fingers, squeezes her left eye shut, and then fires at him. He grins at her childish antics and shakes his head. They don’t want to be paired with anyone else, as long as option is theirs. Their work principles are similar, and their personalities perfectly harmonize. One of them can fill in what the other person lacks. Hyungwon is perceptual using his senses, a rational thinker, and an introvert; while Seulgi is intuitive, judges with her feelings or instincts, and an extrovert.

“Don’t forget to turn in your reflection essays of Barker and Jane’s Cultural Studies,” Prof. Hyunwoo announces. “If you don’t have any more violent reactions, disperse before I spontaneously decide to fail all of you.”

 

-

 

The students scamper out of the room to different directions. Seulgi is the first to come out, and she stands on the side of the door to wait for Hyungwon. She takes a peep in the crevice of the door frame and sees him packing up his laptop inside his dark blue messenger bag.

His blond hair is in disarray because he keeps brushing it backwards with his fingers, and there are light brown streaks on the roots. He grabs his midnight blue, vintage bomber jacket from the top rail of his chair and wears it. His cyan, lily-patterned Bermuda shorts show just enough of his long legs to make Seulgi feel envious. She has always wanted to become taller than her five foot four inches.

“He’s pretty cool for a professor, isn’t he?” Seulgi asks him as he steps out.

“His quips are actually funny, I have to give him that,” Hyungwon assents. “Or maybe they have twice their appeal because they’re mostly directed at Changkyun.”

“The archetypal, egotistic, alpha male,” Seulgi spits out.

“Whoa!” Hyungwon reacts. He pauses in his tracks and holds out his hand to stop Seulgi as well. “That’s going too far. I would just call him a megalomaniac with unstimulating wisecracks, but yours works, I guess.”

Seulgi bursts out laughing and says in between, “That’s even worse than what I said.” She backslaps his arm and Hyungwon rubs it, pouting as if he’s hurt.

“And you should know better than to rush at everything he says,” he scolds. He shakes his finger at her and resumes walking.

“It wasn’t for him, though,” Seulgi explains. “There were other people and you can’t expect all of them to know these things. What if they get influenced by that kind of stupid mentality?” Silence is complacence, and nothing good comes out from neutrality. There are fewer and fewer people who have the courage to call out what they know is wrong, and this let-it-be attitude is the precedence of a degenerating society.

“Are you sure you’re not just irritated by your archetypal, egotistic, alpha male and you like shutting them down with intelligence?” he jeers.

“That, too,” Seulgi agrees meekly. Hyungwon purses his lips to stop from smirking. “He’s creative enough to conjure those retorts. I’m impressed but don’t tell anyone that.”

“Yeah, like people would—” Hyungwon gets cut short when he hears someone shouting from behind. He sees Wonho sprinting towards them, waving his right hand to get their attention.

“Hey, wait up!” Wonho shouts at them.

They let Wonho catch up, their faces puzzled. Hyungwon furrows his eyebrows, peering at him with suspicion, while Seulgi gives him the once over. Face to face, he is even more attractive and his clothes cling to his body like a second skin. Standing up, his black pants molding with his leg muscles are too conspicuous not to be noticeable. His cap has been flipped backwards and his eyes are the shade of hickory. He has a leather backpack slung on his left shoulder that looks empty by the way it slouches.

“What’s up?” Hyungwon asks him warily, taking a small step forward.

“Do you have one more vacant spot in your tandem?” Wonho inquires. “Can you adopt a lost puppy?”

“Sure, why not?” Hyungwon shrugs and turns around.

“No, wait!” Wonho exclaims. “I’m going to opposite direction.” He points with his thumb at his back. “What I meant was, can I join you guys for next week’s reporting?”

“I know what you meant. I don’t decide on this so you should ask her, not me.” Hyungwon nods at Seulgi who tries not to flinch when Wonho catches her observing him. He doesn’t seem to mind, or he may just be pretending not to.

Wonho puts up both his hands in what looks like a surrender. “I won’t be a burden,” he promises. “I don't know anyone else in the class. I’m the only one who’s two years your senior. Changkyun’s my last resort.”

Seulgi gives him a lopsided smile. “Since you beg it like that,” she says slowly, “I guess we can always use an extra brainpower.”

“Nice!” He pumps his fist in the air. “I’m Hoseok Lee, by the way, but everyone calls me Wonho.” He gives them both a high-five and then tiny handshake. “I’m going to have to add you on messenger, so we can contact each other.” He pulls out his phone from his right back pocket. “What are your names on Facebook?” he asks while tapping on his screen.

“Seulgi Kang.”

“Hyungwon Chae.”

Wonho repeats their names and says, “Added and added.” He tucks his phone inside his pocket again. “Thanks. I need to bounce because I have Kim for Economic Theories’ class. He’ll rip my head off if I so much as step in a minute late.” He slowly retreats and grins at them. “Let’s keep in touch.” He brisk walks on the opposite direction along with the wave of students heading out of the building.

“What’s his story?” Seulgi asks Hyungwon as they continue to where they were going.

“As far as what I’ve heard from the grapevine, he’s the typical jock,” he answers. “You know,” he places his fist in front of his crotch with the index finger wiggling up and down, “thinks with his dick and and likes bagging a lot of girls. He’s not originally from here and he’s probably the oldest, which we have already confirmed.”

Seulgi’s face turns sour. “What sport does he play?”

“He was the former captain of the football team. They won three consecutive championships under him, from seasons 75 to 77. He received the MVP title in two of them, so he’s used to basking in the glory. Every varsity athlete of his generation respects him because he’s a good-looking star player. There’s also talk around campus that he’s being offered a midfielder position for the national team. Aside from that, you’ll have to ask him.”

“When you mentioned that he’s not really from here, did you mean he transferred from a different degree program? Or was he from a different hometown?”

“Both, I think. His father is the governor of the state of Sheldon. He’s a country boy and he’s proud of it. I would be, too, if my father has as much power as his,” he sulks. “Was he from the School of Film and Media Studies or was it the School of Fine Arts? I’m sure it’s either of the two.” He squints at Seulgi. “Why are you so interested? I wouldn’t have pegged him to tickle your sexual bone. You’ve probably written a five-paged explanation why university sports feed men’s toxic masculinity, or how athletes use it as a leeway to treat girls as sexual objects. To put it simply, he can’t possibly be your type.”

“I have nothing against sports. And this is the first time I’ve truly noticed him, alright?” Seulgi defends, rolling her eyes. “I was grateful for his attempt to hark back on the topic when it rounded on the bend because of Changkyun.”

“You were one of the people who kept deviating from it,” Hyungwon mutters which Seulgi ignores.

“I just think he made a fair point.”

“There’s not much in the substance department, if you ask me,” Hyungwon states matter-of-factly. “It's not a clincher. Anyone could have said that kind of opinion. I’ll bet good money that you thought of it yourself but did not see the benefit in expressing it out loud.”

Seulgi falls silent. “His only fault is that he said it in such a cliched manner that it sounded like truism. But if you try to grasp underneath,” she makes a sloping motion with her hand, “what he was trying to explain, it actually made sense. Remember what Lefebvre said when the everyday is overshadowed by the romanticization of intellectualism?”

As if entirely drained from the conversation, Hyungwon pleads, “Can we please talk about this maybe never again? I caught a glimpse of something that I’ve been wanting to tell you about.” Hyungwon drags Seulgi a few steps to the left and taps the neon purple poster pinned on the bulletin board. “This,” he taps it again two more times, “is an urgent matter that we need to decide upon.”

Seulgi comes closer to read its contents. The title in yellow says, ‘Lights Out!’, with a subtitle of ‘In celebration of Tau Rho’s 78th anniversary, have fun with us on our wildest party, yet!’. Beneath that are black, blurry shapes of guys and girls, and a silver disco ball on top of them. There is more information about the event, but she feels unenthusiastic about it. “It’s a frat party, except, what does this have to do with me?”

“Have you not read it? It’s Tau Rho’s anniversary and there will be,” he emphasizes the next couple of words syllable per syllable, “unlimited booze.” Hyungwon grins and leans on the bulletin board, “It definitely has everything to do with you and me.”

Tau Rho boasts itself as the oldest brotherhood in the university, which was founded in 1940 by 25 junior law students who wanted to ‘provide service to the public’, ‘achieve scholarly excellence in their field’, and ‘take initiative in becoming role models to the nation’. It has expanded throughout different colleges and institutes and has more than a hundred active members. It has produced big names over the years such as two former Presidents, several Senators, and many more with prominent positions in the government such as Directors of agencies or Secretaries of departments. But these are exempt of the barbaric issues that it harbored, as well. There were a number of victims of fraternity-related violence, some of which resulted in death by hazing. There were also cases filed at the anti-sexual harassment office in campus that were never settled.

Surprisingly, Seulgi dated the current head of the Tau Rhoans, or the Lord Overseer as they call him. Seulgi has known Kihyun Yoo as a child, and they’ve been neighbors for more than a decade. Their fathers are close colleagues in Yale University, both of whom graduated at the top of their batches in the Department of Economics. They served as Deans in Yale later on for their respective schools, whereas Kihyun’s was in Law School while Seulgi’s was in the School of Management. Seeing that they had tight-knit families, it crossed between the two that they could work out a relationship. It went briefly, and it’s a good thing they got out of it without grabbing at each other’s throats. They remain as friends and, thinking back, Seulgi realizes how naïve and elitist they were.

She throws Hyungwon a withering stare. “If you want to drink, we can always go to our turf. I’m seriously not in the partying mood for the entire semester.”

Hyungwon grabs Seulgi by the shoulder and shakes her: “Since when has my best friend become one of those rich divorcees who isolate themselves inside their humongous mansions drinking wine and eating cheese?”

Seulgi brushes off his hands. “Since I found out that being surrounded by sweaty, gyrating bodies reeking of puke and foreplay is not my idea of fun.” She sighs dramatically and closes her eyes. Her head starts to throb as if she can already feel the impending hangover.

“It doesn’t have to be fun,” Hyungwon says, “it can just be outrageous!” He cups Seulgi’s face with his hands and draws his face nearer until they are eyeball to eyeball. “We have never refused free alcohol before. Why pay two dollars for a single bottle of beer when you can down as many tequila shots as your tolerance permits you without spending a single cent?”

“I'm not going to something I'm sure I will regret the following day.” She pushes his forehead with the heel of her hand and slaps his hands away. “I just don’t have the time to spend with people I won’t even become acquainted with in the future.” Her face becomes set as she tucks a loose hair behind her left ear.

“Have you bumped your head somewhere and forgotten that our culture here permits us to become delinquents every weekend? No one in Imperium is a goody-two-shoes, come on. Name one person who is not an alcoholic.”

“Me?” she suggests meekly with a forced wide-eyed expression. It contorts when Hyungwon scowls.

“Please stop pretending as if you’re one of those delicate, refined girls.” Seulgi opens her mouth in response but Hyungwon covers it to stop her. “That might be a sexist remark, but I know you understood what I meant. Where is the great Seulgi Kang who can drink from six in the evening to 11 in the morning the following day? Where is the great Seulgi Kang who can drink ten liters of rum with a bunch of strangers?”

“Oh God, you make me sound like a beast with that overstatement.” She runs a hand on her face and rubs the back of her neck. “This makes the rest of the semester totally predictable. We start it by drinking and end it with drinking. First, I barely scraped off my grades last time. Second, I’m placed on temporary probation. Third, I haven’t even started on gathering related literature for my thesis. Priorities, Hyungwon, priorities.”

“Your GPA was 4.4, which means that you’re still in the running for Cum Laude, so who are you trying to fool?” Hyungwon argues. “Your academic standing was affected by the one course you enlisted on which, by the way, you didn’t even need. I kept reminding you to formally drop it but you ghosted instead because you were such a lazy ass. You have five months to fix your probationary status and appeal to have it removed from your transcript of records. Also, screw our thesis! It’s not even needed until the next academic year.”

“I want to practice and listen to Bach the rest of the night,” Seulgi groans. “Maybe even read some political theories.”

“I swear to Machiavelli, the God of all power-hungry college students with severe trust issues, that we won’t be doing this every single weekend.” Hyungwon looks at the ceiling above and clasps his hands as if in prayer. “I promise, with all the sincerity that I can muster inside my decaying heart, that it will be just this once. As a kick-starter for the semester.”

Seulgi stifles a snicker. “As long as I won’t have to mingle with hormonal frat men—”

“Isn’t this Kihyun’s fraternity?”

“Excluding him because he’s my friend and he’s a decent person.” Seulgi makes a mental note to mute Hyungwon on messenger for a couple of days. She’ll also need to find a place where she can hide out during weekends. “Anyway, I don’t want to interact with any fraternity member. If one sleazy guy comes up to me and tries to flirt his way into my pants, I will bail,” she threatens.

“It’s a deal.” Hyungwon grins wolfishly as he ruffles her hair.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

 

ODESZA is playing loudly like erratic waves all over the floor, the bass pulsing on the ears of all the frenetic dancers in the center. There is a booth in every corner; one for beer, gin, rum, and vodka. Neon purple and green lights envelope the whole room. The Tau Rhoans are spread everywhere. Three of them man each of the booths, four watch both access doors, three are guiding the sound system, and five roam around to contain the crowd in case a fight breaks out. At least 50 or so people keep flocking those booths to make the most of the free, unlimited alcohol. Considering that the party was organized just a week earlier, and then announced a day before, it’s quite a success with the large number of guests having fun.

Seulgi can feel her ankles throb from the excessive dancing in three-inch Stiletto heels. She’s wearing a black dress with a halter top and a flared mini skirt. Her arms and back are glistening with sweat. The whole floor has air-conditioning, and her bare skin gets small bites here and there from the cold. She wipes at the back of her neck with a tissue so her brown, shoulder-length hair won’t stick on it. It’s a good thing she’s not wearing that much makeup, just a light touch of foundation, a dab of cheek tint for a timid flush, and punch-colored sheer lipstick. Her russet eyes dart from the booth to the exit sign.

After lining up for a few shots, Hyungwon leans in and shouts in Seulgi’s ear, “Let’s go out for a smoke, I’m starting to feel fuzzy. I think the alcohol has already gotten to my head.” He pulls her out of the throng of sweet and sour smelling bodies, and onto the balcony where a little over 40 people are lounging around in twos or threes.

“How many people are here?” she asks him. There’s a mixture of couples, fraternity and sorority members, and some who are obviously freshmen. Most of them are holding a lit cigarette and a half-empty bottle of Heineken or Coors. It’s easy to discern who the rich and the poor are with their clothing.

“Including those inside, I would say about 300 people?” he speculates. “There’s the resident Tau Rhoans, their alumni, their so-called sisters,” he goes over their surroundings, “and then there’s us along with these first-timers who just got out of their cradles.” He pulls out a pack of Camel and a matchbox from his back pocket. He lights one stick, takes a drag of it, and then blows out a long line of smoke. They stand next to the railings and notice someone approaching them.

Wonho has his hands inside the pockets of a red windbreaker. He’s not wearing a cap this time, and his hair is as black as midnight. His head is slightly inclined with an amicable half-smile on his face. He peers at them with curiosity. “I wouldn’t have nailed you both as the party-goer type.”

“We’re surprised that you’re here as well, but I guess the jocks need their best representative,” Hyungwon says, his tone dripping with sarcasm. He looks on into the nearby buildings and rubs the tip of his nose.

Wonho ignores him and turns to Seulgi instead. “Your friend doesn’t like me much, does he?”

“He’s generally snarky,” she replies in an apologetic tone. “He bites at everyone he gets in close contact with so it’s nothing personal. Are you here with friends or…?” She searches beyond him to see if there are people glancing in their direction, or if there’s someone coming in to snatch him away.

“I was invited by a junior of mine.” He nods toward the shaded glass doors. “He got initiated into the fraternity several days ago.”

“Are you one of them?” she asks him, innocently. She notes his strong accentuation of the word fraternity, and wonders if he’s connected to them. Affluent fraternities such as Tau Rho will only recruit those who are beneficial to them. They always take into consideration, if not the personal credentials, the financial background of their neophytes. It won’t be news if the star player is a member.

Wonho does a slapping motion in the air. “No, and I don’t intend to join any such group. I have no need for them.” He snorts in disapproval and purses his lips.

“Careful, there,” she warns him, smirking. She crosses her arms in front of her chest. “If someone hears you, you’ll definitely get yourself into trouble. You wouldn’t want to piss off a loyal, intoxicated lapdog looking for the right target to let off steam.” Fraternities are always implicated in brawls, and fights often erupt because someone mishears something. In tradition, they’re upstanding, young highfliers who aim to prove their worth as social contributors; but in actuality, they’re arrogant snots with money to spend and networks to abuse.

“Who’s scared?” He frowns. “These wusses all squeal for backup if they so much as get a tiny scratch on their pretty, little faces. They probably wouldn’t want to get scolded by their dermatologist.”

“I feel so awkward hearing the way you put it,” Hyungwon comments, apparently listening to the conversation. He asks Seulgi with a sick expression, “Aren’t you angry about the tinges of sexism in what he said?”

“Wait!” Wonho yields, putting his hands up. “I’m not sure why what I said was sexist since I didn’t even mention girls. I don’t think there’s anything remotely wrong with what I said. But I’m willing to learn.”

“Let it be,” Seulgi says in an undertone. “There’s a right time and place for a political debate.” And it shouldn’t involve alcohol, she thinks. Historically, a lot of discourse occurred between men while they were induced in a state of alcoholic euphoria. Oftentimes, they had attributed drunkenness with divine experience. People believe that it makes them intelligent, and it organizes their thoughts coherently and holistically. What it really does is a mere boost of the fragile ego, a push to impulsivity. It slows down a person’s reaction time, and it reduces their ability to choose the proper decisions. It makes their tongues loose, but it doesn’t make them articulate. Nothing sticks when you’re drunk.

“I have time,” Wonho says patiently and leans on the railing to indicate that he’s not going anywhere any time soon.

“She’s a radical feminist set out to overthrow the patriarch in order to dictate the male kingdom herself,” Hyungwon teases with Seulgi glaring at him in return.

Wonho laughs. “I surmised as much.” He makes her secretly squirm with his intense stare. “There’s nothing inside that makes me want to go back. I’ve had enough of the body heat to last me through winter. My ears are still ringing with the noise. Also, my teammates are either playing beer pong or chugging their livers away.”

“Don’t you want to join them?” Seulgi asks lightly.

For a quick second, the ends of Wonho’s lips curl down a little bit. “I don’t particularly enjoy kids’ games. I’m more of a beer and intellectual conversations on the table kind of guy.”

“Well, as part of the settling-down age, why don’t we agree to grabbing a few bottles and then take them back outside?” Hyungwon suggests. Seulgi glares at him and tilts her head to the left as negation. “Better yet, I’ll go inside myself and get a rainbow shot of Jager bombs. I’ll just come back with a couple of Budweisers for the two of you lovebirds.”

“Take it easy,” Seulgi calls after Hyungwon. “I won’t carry you if you pass out.” She tells Wonho, “He seems like someone who’s too much to handle, but he becomes tolerable through time.”

He grins. “How did you become friends?”

“We had three of the same classes a couple of years back, so we’ve memorized each other’s faces,” Seulgi explains. “A week after, we sat next to each other unconsciously. He decided that I was a decent person he can endure being with, and I’ve concluded that he could be the subject I was looking for my research about narcissism.” She thinks in retrospect about Hyungwon standing out amongst others because of his colloquialisms. He would barrage extravagant questions against students who committed fallacies. He couldn’t do that with Seulgi; her arguments were always supported with legitimate sources. This posed as a challenge to him, and he couldn’t help but admire her as his biggest competitor. Their rivalry blossomed into friendship when he realized that, despite her wealth, Seulgi was not condescending and was, to a greater extent, trustworthy.

“It’s not because you two are partners in brandishing sarcasm anywhere you go?” Wonho smiles slyly.

“Definitely not that!” she remarks, feigning innocence. She plasters a fake, gummy smile and places a hand on her chest.

“I’ll try to keep up.” Wonho chuckles. “So, why are you feminist?”

“Oh, you really want to go there,” she claims in surprise. She gets a small nod from him, urging her on. Scratching her cheek lightly, she says, “It’s because, as a woman, it’s hard to live without having the need to be cautious everywhere I step on.”

“Haven’t they recently passed a local legislation against catcalling?” he inquires.

“Yes, but that’s not enough if men are not afraid of being reprimanded,” she asserts. “No one has taken it seriously, and not everyone has an ample amount of knowledge about it. Violators will only get a warning for doing it twice in a row. Once they commit it a third time, that’s when they’re obligated to do community service for a maximum of 30 days. The ordinance becomes blurry after that because there’s no designated punishment for doing it four or more times.”

“Maybe they get another set of community service?” he speculates. “Is that enough compensation for the victims?”

“That’s one of my father’s interpretations, but he told me that it’s the eye of a needle for privileged boys to slip through. Another interpretation is that it’s not necessary to have an additional form of penalty. It’s assumed that the offender has already been rehabilitated by doing community service. That is if someone even gets caught.”

“I’ll have to agree.” Wonho roughly combs loose strands of hair in front of his eyes backwards. “My girlfriend got catcalled the other day by a bunch of garbage collectors inside her village. She called me up an hour later, crying, to tell me about it.” He imitates a phone sign with his left hand. “I wasn’t even there to protect her. I would have knocked their teeth off. God knows I’m going to break their jaws if I witnessed it, or maybe it wouldn’t have occurred if I was there in the first place.” He shakes his head and his shoulders become tense. “She was shaken up the whole night and thought she would get raped right then and there. I didn’t know how to comfort her.”

“Where did it happen?” she asks softly.

“Inside her village,” he answers. “Ironically, it’s this clean-cut, gated community of disciplined, middle-class families. It was past ten when it happened, so there were fewer cars passing by. This truck slowed down next to her and the rascals inside took the opportunity. At first, they just whistled and hooted. When she picked up her pace, they shouted some nasty things at her from up their seats.” He mimics them, “I want to run up my hands in between your legs, baby. Hey, sexy, can I kiss you? These are not something I would say to my sister.”

“The fact that she constantly needs you for protection proves that there is no safe space for her anywhere,” she tells him firmly. “She will continuously get attacked as long as she’s alone. Sexual predators have the nerve to incessantly victimize women because they can get away with it. Laws are useless if they’re weakly implemented, and there are those who don’t face justice.”

“What do you propose we do?” he asks.

“There’s no immediate solution to the problem,” she says. “We have to restructure our institutions, especially religious and educational institutions. They shape our culture including our beliefs, ideals, our perspectives about gender roles and sexuality, our notions of women’s rights, and our very actions. We should reform our government, revise all the backward policies that we have today, and realign our law enforcement to the protection of the genuinely innocent.”

“Those are long-termed goals,” Wonho notes. “It will take us years to accomplish that.”

“Everything is a gradual process,” she responds, “and there’s no easy way for us to exact transformation especially if it’s deeply-rooted within the structures in our society. If you’re worried about your girlfriend’s security, I can recommend a gym where she can get kick-boxing trainings. She should have the skills to defend herself from an assailant. This is the first step in ensuring that she wouldn’t be susceptible to assaults, by making her strong and capable.”

“Call me dumb but why are you a feminist when you can be an equal rights advocate?” he asks.

“I get that a lot from men,” Seulgi scoffs, “and it’s annoying how I have to repeatedly explain it when nothing I say comes through to them.”

“Try me,” Wonho challenges, crossing his arms.

“Women have always been on par with men in all areas, and this is proven by historical accounts and artifacts of the past,” Seulgi explains. “Whether it’s their status, influence, or position, women were equal with men. There were matriarchal communities that had women as leaders or primary counsels, and they were revered by everyone. The balance was tipped when societies developed into feudalism, and eventually capitalism. Gradually, women were placed underneath men, turned into the so-called second sex. This implies that there’s no such thing as a natural order.”

“I’m listening, don’t worry,” Wonho says, giving her a thumbs up.

“So, patriarchy rose from the ashes of what was once an egalitarian society,” she continues. “Since then, women were seen as lesser beings. We’ve been subordinated, our capabilities questioned, discriminated by our biological make-up. Our rights are ignored, basically treating us like domesticated cattle. Because of this, we need to empower ourselves as dusts from the ground and onto the pedestal where you guys are right now. If we push for equality with the current state we are in, that’s asking us to revoke your privileges. Would you want that?”

“Hold up,” Wonho strokes his chin, deep in thought, “let me get this straight. What you’re trying to say is that I’m privileged while you’re not. Plus, I get more rights than you do.” He gazes at her for confirmation, and Seulgi answers with an affiliative smile. “What you want as a feminist is to lift yourselves up from the unprivileged position to where we are right now.” He looks at her again questioningly but, for the first time, it doesn’t feel like an interrogation.

“Yup!” She makes an a-ok hand sign. “Imagine a scale where the other weighing platform has rocks on it. To balance it out, we have to remove these encumbrances, so to speak. Not unless you want to add rocks on the other side to give us a little leverage.”

“I see.” Wonho chews on his lower lip, which Seulgi observes he does often whenever he’s perplexed about something. His eyes crinkle on the corners as he narrows them at his feet. “Do you devote your time studying these?”

“Whenever I can,” she admits. “My parents are involved with international organizations like the United Nations, UNESCO, and World Health Organization. They volunteer to raise awareness against domestic abuse and child molestation in African countries. I took my advocacies from theirs but, instead of being philanthropic, I consider myself as a revolutionary.”

"That’s nice!” Wonho compliments, smiling widely. “Are your parents—”

Their conversation gets interrupted by Kihyun half-carrying Hyungwon on his arms. “Seulgi, watch over your sidekick, will you?” He eases Hyungwon on the white, tiled floor and groans. “He’s had one too many flaming Bacardis and was cozying up with a lot of girls. If one of my brothers sees him dallying with their girls, I won’t step in to rescue him.” He folds the cuffs of his cerulean dress shirt up to his elbows. There are visible creases on the lower front, most likely from carrying Hyungwon over. The top three buttons are undone, and Seulgi can see a small part of his pectoral muscles. The hems are also untucked from his grey, wool trousers. He’s disheveled all over, but he dons it with a high amount of confidence that it’s sexy.

Kihyun slaps Hyungwon at the back of the head, making him curse. “Fucking bastard, what did you do that for?” Hyungwon breathes deeply and rests his forehead on the railing. “I think I’m going to die,” he complains.

“I’m going to push you over if you don’t calm yourself,” Kihyun threatens, his upper lips bared on a sneer.

“I knew this would happen,” Seulgi grumbles. She kneels beside Hyungwon to rub his back. “Do you feel like puking?” she asks, which Hyungwon shakes his head to. She stands back up and sighs.

Kihyun spots a guy prowling around and calls out to him. He makes a come-hither gesture which the guy immediately follows. “Brother, get us three Heinekens, will you?” he orders. After the guy turns to do as he’s told, Kihyun informs them, “We’re closing up in an hour, but there are several cases of alcohol left. Most of the toddlers left, so feel free to grab more if you like.”

“Nope, I’m good,” Wonho says. He zips up his windbreaker and slides his hands inside the pockets again.

“Me, too,” Seulgi concurs. She glances at Hyungwon who’s sitting with his back straight on the railing. His legs are stretched out and his hands are on his lap. He appears to be taking a nap, and his breathing has become steadier. “This one just passed out.” She looks at her wristwatch and sees that it’s a quarter past midnight. “We’ll be heading home pretty soon. I’ll book an uber in ten. What did he do inside?”

“I saw him playing beer roulette near the stage,” Kihyun recounts. “Five minutes later, he’s on the other side downing seven rainbow shots of Bacardi.” He takes a peek at Hyungwon. “What an idiot. Will you be alright going home with him like this? I can ask someone to drive you down to King’s Street. Is he staying at your house?”

“I’ll take them,” Wonho volunteers, pointing at himself. “Where in King’s Street do you live?”

“Three houses from the intersection between King’s Street and Follett’s,” Seulgi answers. She squeezes his arm gently and waggles her hands. “I won’t impose on you, though. We can manage on our own.”

“It’s on the way to my apartment so I don’t really mind,” Wonho assures her.

“This strong, independent persona is going to get you killed,” Kihyun scolds her. “Take up his offer just to be safe.” He tells Wonho, “She’s too proud for her own good. I’m Kihyun, by the way.” He offers his hand and Wonho shakes it. He leers at Seulgi sportively and says, “And she’s not familiar with the social responsibility of introducing an acquaintance with another, especially before they themselves speak. I won’t be responsible for your death. If you’re too shy at being driven by someone else, I’ll take you myself. Hyungwon will have to wait until we clean all of this mess. He can sleep at the equipment’s room in the meantime.” The guy from a moment ago returns with three cans of beer. Kihyun takes them and hands one to Wonho and Seulgi.

Seulgi weighs her options for a few seconds, torn between leaving early with Wonho or staying even longer in agony. She feels a twinge in her calves as an answer. “I’ll make it up to you since I’m not comfortable with asking for favors. Kihyun probably won’t let me leave without a knight in shining armor next to me, being the damsel in distress that I am.”

“You can protest once the table has been flipped, stubborn brat,” Kihyun chides. His eyes widen and he snaps his fingers at Wonho, “Aren’t you Jooheon’s captain? Where’s the rest of your team?”

“I was distracted by these two and lost track of them,” Wonho says. Seulgi gasps dramatically and looks at him with half-assed incredulity.

“Jooheon’s by the exit,” Kihyun informs him. “He’s assisting dimwits who lost their ability for spatial recognition. He’s a handful, but he’s a good kid. He told us the university chancellor hired a new coach, and we’ll have two imports from UCA. How much was the allocated budget for football this year?”

“We still have the lowest,” Wonho mutters glumly. “Basketball received the largest bulk of it, with one million for their equipment, while we only have 200 thousand for 15 members.” Kihyun clicks his tongue in disappointment. “We’re bummed Coach Choi had an early retirement just when we were about to grab our fifth title. The team’s still adjusting with the new coach because Choi had a different style. Our trainings have become more intense, and he keeps introducing new techniques. We haven’t met the imports, yet, and we’re not too keen on integrating them in the team.”

“Why’s that?” Kihyun asks.

“We were able to beat UCA with the players that we have. These imports force my teammates’ positions out of their hands, when we defeated them.” Wonho takes a slow, laborious breath through his nose and expels it all out with his mouth. “There’s a certain harmony that we’re comfortable with, and it’s a stupid decision to try inserting a couple of lost notes because it disrupts that harmony.”

“But you’ll have to recruit, eventually,” Kihyun inputs. “To fill up the stations vacated by those who graduated.”

“That’s actually it,” Wonho says. “There’s a process the fledglings go through before they get inducted into the team. We train with them for an entire year before letting them play in an actual game. This is to season them, to guarantee that they’re good enough to win. We also build our camaraderie; we erect sturdy foundations of trust so we wouldn’t lose because of a weak teamwork. We have to trust the process. These imports have a separate contract with the university that requires us to bring them in right away. What’s worse, they’re offered a bigger allowance package.”

“Damn, I totally get it,” Kihyun comments. “Why adopt two additional pups when the others haven’t matured yet?”

“Exactly,” Wonho says. “We have a number of potentials that the university can’t afford, why buy off two more? This is my last championship and the devil be damned if it gets fucked up.” He pops up the lip of his Heineken and gulps it down. It empties within ten seconds and Kihyun, in an amused surprise, cheers him on. He crumples the can and throws it on a metal trash basket nearby. “I’m calling it a day. I’ve stayed longer than I should, and I don’t want my girlfriend to get worried. It’s nice meeting you, man.” He grasps Kihyun’s hand and bumps shoulders with him. Turning to Seulgi, he asks, “Are you ready to go?”

Seulgi nods at him and hugs Kihyun. “We barely hang out, anymore,” she says in frustration, pouting. “Ever since you got elected as the President of Tau Rho, you never seem to have the time to spare with us.”

Kihyun flicks her nose softly and ruffles her hair. “Come by my house tomorrow afternoon and let’s get coffee,” he tells her. “I’ll invite Jooheon over, and we’ll take a quick trip around town, maybe hop from restaurant to restaurant. Wonho can come, too, if he wants.”

“Sure, why not?” Wonho, grinning, bends towards Hyungwon.

“Yeah, I’ll take you up on that offer,” she accepts, watching Wonho lightly tap Hyungwon on the leg to wake him up. “I’m curious who this Jooheon is. You’ll be the only excuse I’ll permit myself to take if I want to leave.”

“Okay.” Kihyun wraps an arm around Seulgi’s shoulders and tells Wonho, “You’ll have to handle this one with care. She has a tough shell, but her insides are brittle.”

Seulgi is puzzled, reading into what Kihyun said, and gives up. “I don’t get it, but whatever,” she says simply.

“You’re the same as everyone else,” Kihyun explains. “A human with emotions, as much as you pretend as if these are beneath you.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Seulgi groans, rubbing her temples. Kihyun cackles at her reaction, entertained by the embarrassment that he caused. “If you utter a single, old man gag, I’ll wipe out all traces of you in my memory. It will be as if you never existed.” He laughs even louder. “Well, I’m going to pretend, until we’re out of this building, that you’re pixelated and on mute. We’ll see you tomorrow.” On cue, Hyungwon stands up and dusts his butt, his eyes droopy.

“Do me a favor,” Kihyun implores. “Ditch Hyungwon tomorrow, will you? I don’t have the patience to nurse a hungover, pesky scamp. If he enters into a comatose, let him stay on a comatose.”

Hyungwon, hearing what he said, lifts his middle finger up and waves it in front of his face. “Wake me up when I care,” he grumbles. He turns to Seulgi with his eyes half-shut and asks, “So, what did I miss?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

 

At 10:45 in the morning, the sun is streaming out wide, cordial rays of light through the white awnings in Kihyun’s kitchen. He’s in every case a neat freak, and looking around at how tidy the room is, with all the equipment arranged by their size, color, and function, Seulgi figures out where he gets his habit. The Yoo household is so free from dirt no matter which corner she turns to, and it makes her embarrassed to so much as set foot in it. She can see her reflection at every shiny piece of furniture if she looks closely. If she wipes her finger at a random nook, she bets it will come out clean.

The kitchen comes with a complete set of appliances, most of which Seulgi has never encountered before. There are white, louvered cabinets filled with glass and ceramic storages for utensils and condiments. On the middle is a large wall pantry complete with stocks, spices, and other flavor enhancers. The multi-purpose drawers are teeming with wine and other expensive alcohol. As for the the two French-door refrigerators, they’re piled with vegetables, fruits, meat, and other drinks. It’s beautiful with a modern, luxurious design but maintains its practicability, and she expects nothing less from a family who is very particular with their food.

This is her first time setting foot inside their kitchen to whip up a meal with Kihyun, and it actually feels pleasant doing it with him. She’s never had the chance to cook by herself since she grew up with either a helper or her mother doing that for her. Even when it comes to the simple task of frying chicken, she manages to burn it or serve it slightly raw. Although she’s slowly learning the ways of proper cuisine by watching videos on Instagram or YouTube, it’s better to let Kihyun take the lead just to be safe. He’s skilled at creating any type of dish which he took from his mother, a head chef for several Michelin-starred restaurants around the world.

At the moment, they’re preparing a Cajun chicken alfredo, which is one of Seulgi’s favorites. On her part of the white, marble countertop is an assortment of ingredients. She just finished slicing the chicken to strips and sets on mincing six cloves of garlic. Kihyun, on the other hand, is on the other side preheating their silver convection oven. He goes over to her and takes the bowl of chicken strips to dredge them with spices. Afterwards, he places them on an iron skillet and puts them in the oven. He sets the timer for ten minutes and then opens the cupboard on top.

“Don’t forget to chop the tomatoes next,” Kihyun reminds her. “I’ll sauté it after the garlic.”

“What do you need all of these food for?” Seulgi asks him, bobbing her head to indicate the kitchen. “It’s a restaurant here, and there’s only three of you.”

“My mom loves having guests over,” he responds while pouring olive oil onto the pan he’s holding, “and she told me that she came from a big, poor family with eight siblings. They barely had enough to eat, and there were days that they only had a can of sardines and a pack of noodles. They would mix these with boiling water, add a pinch of salt, and then share it between all of them. She promised herself that would never happen to her own family, and she worked her ass off to graduate at Kendall College.” He looks around the room with half-open eyelids. “This is her being afraid of the past.”

“Knowing her accomplishments, I admire her even more now,” she claims in amazement, making Kihyun smile at her with gratitude. “She went through all that and made it at the top. And I’m amazed at how she was able to put up with you, growing up.” Kihyun mimics a dramatic shocked expression, his eyes and mouth going wide open, and his eyebrows drawing together to form little waves on his forehead. He turns on the faucet and sprinkles her with water using his fingers. “Hey, not my clothes, goddamnyou!”

“Are you done with the tomatoes?” He peers over his shoulders and sees her finishing them up. Once the garlic has caramelized, he pauses from stirring to take the sun-dried tomatoes from her. “I’ll be making the sauce first so can you cook the fettuccine in three cups of water?”

“Alright.” Seulgi tears the pasta’s wrapper with her teeth and does what she’s told. “Where are your parents, by the way? I thought I’d be able to pay my respects to them but, sadly, it’s just you here.” She puts her hand on her hip and scowls at him.

Kihyun points his spatula at her and mockingly threatens her, “You should be grateful I’m feeding you, peasant.” He takes a sniff of the tiny wisp of smoke being emitted from the hot pan. “Man, that smells good. Anyway, dad had an emergency meeting with the executive board. He received a memorandum from the vice president for finance or something about their upcoming tuition increase. Mom left at dawn for Paris.”

“Ugh, I’m envious,” she groans out. “Your mom is living the life working in both European and Asian countries, travelling and seeing these places all the time. I’d love to live in Iceland or Norway; they’re said to be the best when it comes to gender equality.”

“Really? I didn’t know that.” Kihyun glances at the steel stock pot where Seulgi is boiling the fettuccine. “Make sure to add a little bit of salt and a teaspoon of oil so they won’t stick together,” he instructs her, rubbing his fingers together. “Mom doesn’t really treat it as a vacation. It’s all business for her and she’s driven by this need to garner more recognition. All work, no play, basically. It’s gotten to the point where she wanted us to be the same, and it’s hard enough living up to dad’s insane expectations. You’re lucky that your parents are so lax with you.”

“Yeah, mom and dad are pretty liberated since they experienced the wild, hippie culture during their younger days,” she agrees. “Mom was active in the early movement for women’s rights and dad was a member of a liberal democrat organization. It would totally be paradoxical if they were rigid in raising me.”

Unlike the Kangs, the Yoos are a conservative, Christian family. Kihyun’s father, as a Tau Rhoan himself, tolerates Kihyun’s partying and late-night excursions because they’re part of the fraternity culture. Aside from that, he enforces an almost military-like disciple on his children. Because they’re two boys, with Kihyun’s brother older than him by four years, Kihyun’s father believes that he must be hard-handed so his sons will become tough. He screams toxic masculinity and he sometimes makes Seulgi uncomfortable with his orthodox opinions of women. Likewise, Kihyun’s mother is strict and imposes a set of rules when it comes to her sons’ careers, relationships, and their spirituality.

“I have two pairs of hands choking me all the fucking time,” Kihyun grumbles, clutching at his neck with his left hand. “It sucks having to be more than you really are because you’re obligated to be.”

Seulgi rubs down Kihyun’s arm to comfort him. “I don’t know how to talk about your parents without the possibility of offending you. I’m also not going to give you those hackneyed opinions that all parents love their children differently, parents know best, or some other blah-blah bullshit.” She grabs the steel chopsticks to her right and stirs the pasta. “I am here for you, though, and I will always support whatever decision you make.”

“They’re not the worst, except I constantly feel that I’m never enough for them,” he croaks, trying his best to hide the shaking of his voice. “No matter my efforts, my achievements, or all my contributions to this family, I’m still not enough. I just can’t make them proud of me.” Kihyun swallows hard and massages the back of his neck. “I mean, I get that dad wanted me to go to Yale because it’s his freaking alma mater, but to be disappointed at me even though I got accepted in Imperium? Do you think that’s fair? I’m still in one of the top state universities, and I’m studying really hard just to get into Harvard Law.”

“There’s always been some sort of rivalry between the two,” Seulgi concurs, nodding her head. “Students from both universities have this unspoken competition and my dad would incessantly poke fun at me because they think they’re better. We know no one really is since we have our own specializations. It’s the same with Harvard and Yale, or Oxford and Cambridge.”

“Exactly!” Kihyun momentarily spreads his arms in exasperation, his eyes giving off an intense gaze. He continues what he’s doing while talking. “It boils down to my choice, where I want to graduate, and I chose International History which Imperium excels at. Our department has published the most researches, produced the most historians than anywhere else in the world. I’m even nominated for best thesis, and I’ve received an invitation from the Annual World History Association Conference to present it there.” He turns around with agony all over his face, his eyebrows tense, and his eyes black with the bitterness he has probably stored deep within him throughout the years. “Seulgi, am I still not enough?”

Seulgi opens her mouth and closes it immediately. She feels lost in this kind of situation, like she’s grappling for a solution to a problem she has never encountered before. If she gives him an advice over something that she has never experienced, it will come out phony and maybe even patronizing. Her parents never treated her with contempt, and she’s showered with warmth and affection her whole life. All she can do is give him a look of sympathy, to show that she can empathize with the burden he’s carrying.

At first glance, Kihyun seems carefree and somewhat arrogant. His whole persona is the characteristic, rich, and haughty frat boy. His left eyebrow becomes slightly arched whenever he’s surrounded by people. He lifts his chin and does a downward stare each time he’s annoyed with the person he’s talking with. If he disapproves of something, he shows it by pressing his lips together to form a thin line. His confidence is almost palpable, and his aura makes people part unconsciously to the side so he can pass by easily. He can be intimidating if he wants to, and it’s easy for him to exercise dominance over his subordinates, especially the neophytes of his fraternity. When he speaks, everyone listens attentively, everyone pays attention with hawk’s eyes.

Then again, Seulgi knows better than to take Kihyun on a superficial level. She’s been with him long enough to understand that underneath all these defense mechanisms is someone who’s been neglected, someone who’s in a constant state of worry. She never admitted that she once found him crying and shaking inside the storage room for cleaning materials when they were 16. Up until now, she doesn’t know the reason for it, and it’s probably too late to ask him. Worse, she might open up wounds that may have already been healed through the time that passed. She knows that he cried late at night before the results of their entrance exam came out. He has scratch marks on the backs of his hands as results of his severe anxiety attacks. He panics when the smallest of details goes amiss. He’s pressured by the need to prove his self-worth, from his parents to everyone else around him. He questions himself all the time; he questions his abilities, his intelligence, his entire existence.

“Kihyun,” Seulgi treads carefully, “have you tried going to a psychiatrist?” She’s unsure if he considers it a sensitive topic because he doesn’t bring it up often. She suggested that he seek professional help a couple of years back and he’s stopped asking for her advice since then. She considers therapy combined with proper medication as the best ways to assuage his depressive episodes. The damages they do to him aren’t just emotional, they’re physical, as well; and he’s lost so much weight over the years. His cheekbones are more prominent when his cheeks used to be rounder and fleshier.

“Yeah, well, I tried,” Kihyun manages to say with a sullen voice. “My mom thinks I’m staging it just to make an impression; my dad thinks I’m not man enough; and my brother – well, my brother’s the only one who actually gives a fuck but he’s a thousand miles away and does not plan on ever going back here. I went once and it didn’t work out.”

“How so?” Seulgi asks. She chews on her lower lip and fixes her eyes on him.

“I found out about this shrink online and it turns out that he’s also the resident psychiatrist for Imperium’s health center,” Kihyun recounts for her. “He’s pretty well-known and is probably in his 60s or something. Did you know that we have a lot of students, and I mean a lot, who have mental illnesses?” He wiggles his index finger at her. “You have to set up an appointment which, by the way, can take up to weeks and I didn’t have the patience for that. I used my influence as the frat’s president on the health center’s administration itself so I could have a schedule cleared up.”

He looks at her warily, expecting her disapproval. When he sees that she only has concern on her face, and he’s assured that she won’t reprove what he’s done, he carries on talking. “I went the weekend after into this office with white, steel chairs, a white, steel table, and a white, steel cabinet. Everything was white except for the plaques hanging on the walls. It really looked like an office when I expected a cozy room with a couch or a recliner, a few plants, and some decorations here and there. He asked questions about my family, my academic life, my friends, about you, my fraternity, and it felt like a goddamn interview. It was too meticulous, too technical; like he just wanted to extract answers out of me so he can cross them out of his checklist and then diagnose me on what’s appropriate for my case. I was hoping I would feel better once I step out of that room, but I got enervated, instead.”

“I can always come with you if you want company,” Seulgi gently offers. “I can help you look for others, and we can jump from psychiatrist to psychiatrist until we find someone who you’ll be comfortable with. We can start with the ones that I know, or this doctor that mom knows. Let’s find someone you can trust. I don’t have to be there inside the room once your therapy starts if you don’t want me to, but I can wait for you outside.”

“Let me think about it,” Kihyun murmurs, looking down on his feet. He breathes out slowly through his mouth. “I’m calm right now, and I don’t want to bore you with any more of my TED talk.”

Seulgi walks towards Kihyun and squeezes his shoulders, her thumb making circular motions to make him relax. “Stop that,” she tells him in a soft voice. “You can talk to your friends, you can talk to me. I will always have time for you. I will always make time for you. Whatever I may be doing, I will break it off and I will go to you, and I will listen to everything that you have to get out of your system. You will never bore me, okay?”

Kihyun gives her a small, grateful smile. “Later,” he says, smiling wider this time. There are wrinkles on the corners of his eyes. “I just heard the oven go off and this sauce is about done. Be careful not to overcook the pasta or it will come out soggy.” He pats her head. “Thank you for being here, and I want to…” He hesitates for just an instant, with Seulgi raising her eyebrows in anticipation. “No, it’s not the time. Help me out with the chicken for a moment and turn that off.”

Seulgi observes him for a few seconds longer, studying his face intently. She wonders about what he just restrained himself to say. “Okay, I’m hungry,” she says slowly, caving in to the rumbling of her stomach. She has a gut feeling that he’s keeping something from her, and she’s curious over what it may be. Watching him take out the chicken from the oven, set up the plates and forks, and preside over the rest of the tasks, he seems to be the same Kihyun on a normal day. Gauging how he deliberately ignores her inquiring stare, and how his breathing is slower and more labored, she worries if something has triggered his depression.

“It’s been a while since I’ve done this,” Kihyun says under his breath. After meticulously arranging the table, he inspects it further if there is anything that’s out of place, or if something is at a wrong angle. “I haven’t been able to relax, spend time by myself, or just sit down and chill and not think about anything for a few minutes.” He rubs his hand over his face and his nape. “I haven’t slept properly these past couple of months.”

“I noticed you’ve buried yourself under all these responsibilities,” Seulgi remarks, taking a brief look at the dark circles underneath Kihyun’s eyes that are bigger than before. “As the President of your fraternity, as a graduating student, and with the law aptitude exam coming up soon, you’ve become busier and less available. Are you still working for the People’s Surge?”

The People’s Surge is one of the three registered national political parties and, within the political spectrum, it considers itself as a leftist group. Equipped with the Social Democratic principles, the People’s Surge has been known to push for law that the working-class will benefit from. It’s proud to have passed bills that protect workers from being overworked by their employers by changing the usual nine-hour shift to just eight hours with paid lunch, by increasing the minimum wage by 10 percent, and by exempting those who earn less than 250 dollars a month from paying taxes. It has led and acquired the greatest number of positions throughout the years, bagging the most representatives for all districts, secretaries for all departments, governors, and senators, even bagging the Presidency for three consecutive elections. Also serving as an umbrella organization, it houses other organizations and parties on a local level, including those within many universities like Imperium.

After being scouted his freshman year by a senior into the Alliance of Progressive Students, the subordinate of The People’s Surge in Imperium, Kihyun was then recruited as a member The People’s Surge itself after running for student council as Public Relations Officer. When they discovered that he was adept in technical writing and in handling field projects, he was hired into their policy-making body. He now works for them as an assistant researcher, directly under the Chairperson of the party and current Senate President of the country’s legislative branch.

“We’re no longer conducting researches,” he admits while sitting down. “At least, not the real sense of the word.” He flaps his hand in her direction, telling her to sit down so they can start eating. “What we’ve been doing is jump from town to town, meeting with local officials to check up on their status for the upcoming elections. We make quick trips on every household that’s on sight and let them answer this questionnaire that’s full of leading questions. We survey people; we interview them to find out who they will be voting for and, if it turns out that they will choose the opposition, we’ll try to persuade them in swinging to our side.”

“That’s disgusting and opportunist,” Seulgi chastises. “Should you really be telling me these things? Because these are insider information, and you do remember that we’re from opposite sides of the coin, right?” She smirks at him while twirling her fork.

Although they’re both from Socialist organizations, she’s always believed that The People’s Surge has erosive pillars and cannot maintain their progressive stance. They employ multi-perspectivism at the expense of being critical towards the realities of the marginalized. Seulgi’s organization, on the other hand, is left-wing through and through, and is deeply-rooted in Marxist ideals. As part of the Nationalist Movement for Liberation and Socio-Economic Development, she treats The People’s Surge in contempt for encouraging neoliberal advancements and the band-aid solutions that they have for the country’s problems. Her analysis of issues is founded on dialectics and historical materialism. For her, the material base comprising of the means of production determines how the superstructures - such as ideologies, culture, and politics – are established.

The People’s Surge’s practices on-ground and the legislation that they lobby for are watered-down if they don’t intend to carry out genuine national industrialization by distributing production to the real owners, which are the farmers and the labourers. The policies that they design only benefit the middle-class while dressed up as pro-poor because what can an increase in pay do when the prices of all commodities surged up? What can the reduction of hours in labour do when the workers are asking for more shifts to cover up their expenses? What is being tax-free when the government doesn’t spend on basic social services and infrastructural improvements? What is development if farmers do not own their land and workers cannot buy their own products?

“This if off the record,” Kihyun warns her, grinning. “I never expected that the party I loved would resort to such,” he searches for the correct adjective by rapidly waving his fork in mid-air, “malicious and, I agree, opportunist schemes. I didn’t think that I would also be culpable with prioritizing expediency over the actual principles of the party.”

Seulgi shakes her head in repugnance. “Why won’t you leave, then?” she asks him. “With your skills, you can always look for another work. You shouldn’t have to compromise your individual principles to the interests of your party.”

“It’s not as easy as that,” Kihyun explains. “We may have a lot of faults, a lot of flaws, a lot of lapses, but I still have hope for reform. This is still the party that helped me become enlightened about the real conditions of the world, about the system we are entrenched in.” His eyes fixes on hers, but his hand holding the fork plays with the pasta on his plate. “I wouldn’t have been who I am today, with my principles, with my views regarding paramount issues, with the frameworks I have been using in my discipline, especially with my activism, if it wasn’t for the party.”

“This reformist approach is where we get into a disagreement with,” Seulgi states, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“Your party has faults, as well,” he retorts. “You’ve supported a strongman for a President. May I also add that,” he counts with his fingers for each of his talking points, “he’s misogynistic, makes rape jokes, says racist slurs on live television, and supports extrajudicial killings of criminals.”

Seulgi’s face darkens as she hears him pick apart the President that her party indeed supported. “I never,” she stresses, “never agreed with the party from the beginning, even before that pig announced he was running for office. I argued with people; I argued with everyone else and their only justification is that we needed it for a tactical alliance.” She clicks her tongue to show her indignation. “It’s fucked up and look at where it got us. Tactical fucking alliance, my ass! They wanted those positions in the government, and they got blinded by the promises of a compulsive liar, a cheat, a sexual harasser, and a sexist pig.”

“Why, then, are you also staying?” he asks her quietly.

Seulgi remains silent for a short time before shrugging her shoulders in defeat. “This isn’t what I meant by not compromising your individual principles for the interests of the party,” she whispers. “I don’t know, Kihyun. I’ve always asserted that a person shouldn’t be dogmatic, shouldn’t act like a loyal lapdog, but I guess we’re all hopeless idealists.”

“I won’t leave for a dirt that can be cleaned,” he declares as a challenge to himself. “We’ve had questionable candidates before, that we’ve dropped after. There are more of us who desire genuine, people-centered change for this country. I feel guilty for deceiving the communities that we’ve been to, I really do, but I can do more being inside than being outside.”

“The elections is such a dirty scam,” Seulgi sneers. “It only wants to bring out the worse of us,” she does a salty half-smile and her eyes show her resentment clearly, “within the deep recesses of our selfish hearts.”

Kihyun scoffs. “Senator Lee wants to be re-elected,” he informs her about their Chairperson, and his employer. “We’re trying to canvass for votes as early as now. It’s too bad the locals don’t know about the ethical considerations when it comes to conducting interviews. They would have called us out, and we would have been barred as researchers.”

“What a greedy asshole,” Seulgi strongly responds. “What were you required to ask?”

“First, we have to know who they’ll be voting for,” he lays out. “Do they know who are running for which position? Do they know the platforms of these candidates? Are they aware of the local parties? These all fall within the guidelines, so it’s fine to ask them. After that, we start with questioning their decisions, if they decided to vote for the opposition. What do they hate about the opposition? Have they recently been disappointed by the opposition? Do they know that the opposition voted against the Comprehensive Bill of Domestic Workers’ Rights? Is it true that the opposition is against pregnant women? We mold our questions according to the knowledge of our interviewees, and only stop once we get the reaction that we want from them.”

“Were you able to fool everyone?” she asks incredulously.

“Not all of them,” he says with a lopsided smile. “The lower-classes are smart and political-minded; you know this. Education is just not as accessible for them as it is for us.  Anyway, Senator Lee is going to win, again, and I won’t be doing that for the next couple of weeks. Maybe I’ll make up for my sins by volunteering for Tau Rho’s community service.”

“Don’t you want to take a rest?” Seulgi frowns at Kihyun as she wipes a dribble of sauce on the side of her lip. “We can watch a movie, or we can just do nothing together. Participating in community service during your free time is laudable but when was the last time you had free time?”

“Being an activist is a life-time expedition. It’s a life-long commitment.” Kihyun laughs at the same old rhetoric that some of Seulgi’s party members use whenever they criticize those who they call as the ‘armchair activists’, or the ones who rally behind their screens and protest with their keyboards.

“Of course,” she agrees, rolling her eyes, “but what’s the point if you’re going to die of exhaustion? What’s the point if you’re going to lose yourself in the process? You have tons of work piled up; you have a lot going on your plate, and the only time I see you is during a Tau Rho event. Are you a person or a robot? What is this community service about?”

“We’re going to help with the construction of homes for those who were struck by Hurricane Watson,” he answers. “They still need about 10 more houses, I think, so we’re looking for other male volunteers and we’ve also reached out on other organizations. Can you rope in Hyungwon to volunteer, and Wonho as well?”

“I can try, but I won’t be promising anything,” Seulgi says slowly, twisting her mouth to one side. “I’m not as close with Wonho as you think. Last night was the most we’ve talked and we’re not that comfortable with each other yet.” She sucks for air in between closed teeth. “Hyungwon,” she accentuates, “needs a little bit of cajoling so I’ll make an effort for that. He’s a lazy ass and he’ll choose to stay in bed over anything. How many men do you need in total?”

“As many as possible to ensure quality of work, and to build the houses faster than intended. The victims can’t keep on living at the evacuation centers. They’re running out of emergency supplies so we’re also calling for donations like food, medicine, or body products such as soap and shampoo.”

“I can tap the Red Cross organization I’m in,” Seulgi suggests, an idea popping in her head, “and we can go around campus to announce room to room for donations. We can partner with Tau Rho since they’re non-partisan, and maybe we can do something for the survivors at the evacuation center while you guys do construction work.”

“Yes, please,” Kihyun accepts gratefully. “Let’s raise a donation drive, and you guys can do a medical mission. This will definitely make things easier for them and for us.”

“Wait,” Seulgi slaps the table and squints her eyes, “isn’t the local government doing anything for the survivors? They’re mandated by the law to provide for the survivors’ necessities and make sure that they’re safe and healthy. There’s a budget for disaster risk management and disaster survivors.” She raises her hands, her eyebrows squeezing together, making small creases in between them. She purses her mouth and wrinkles her nose in frustration. “If I’m not mistaken, Hurricane Watson left last month.”

“Why are you so surprised about the government’s incompetency?” Kihyun drawls out. “It’s not new that our officials are plunderers, pillaging over victims of disasters.” He takes one last bite of his food and puts down his fork straightly perpendicular to his plate. “Tau Rho shelled out a hundred grand for the building materials, and there are money donations from international organizations. Wherever the budget allocation went, I’m pretty sure it’s in someone’s pocket.”

“Fuck the government!” Seulgi cries out with vehemence.

“Fuck the government, indeed,” Kihyun repeats, smirking. He rests his chin on his palm, with his arm upright on the table, and smiles at her. “I badly needed this talk. We should have done this sooner. There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you but I’m not sure how to…” He rolls his right index finger and scratches his right arm with his left hand. “I’m not sure where to start. I haven’t properly composed it just yet, but it’s something that’s really important for me that you know about it. If that makes sense.”

“I’m always here to listen,” Seulgi assures him with certainty. “It’s not like we haven’t been friends for the longest time, Kihyun. Whatever it is, whether you’ve killed someone, or plan on killing someone, you can tell me,” she attempts at a joke which Kihyun scowls at. “I’ll have to look for a cabin to hide you in, but I won’t talk.”

“It’s not as pernicious as that,” he tells her, rolling his eyes. “At least, I don’t think it’s as pernicious as that.”

“Are you planning to do a love confession?” Seulgi blurts out, cowering in her seat in revolt. “Because I thought we’ve made it clear that we’ll be in the no lovey-dovey zone forever.”

“Jesusfuckingchrist, get a grip of yourself, Seulgi Kang,” he orders her, baring his upper teeth. “The horror you’re putting me through right now is making me want to puke my guts out.” Kihyun bursts out in a loud, hearty laughter when he sees Seulgi pouting, her jaw protruding in indignation. “Trust me, it’s not that. Before we end up ruining this friendship, pick up your plate and help me clean up. We’ll have to leave in less than thirty minutes so we can meet Jooheon and your friend.”

“He’s not my friend, just yet,” she stickles. “We talked last night, and you invited him with us, which isn’t a first for you but whatever floats your boat. I think he’s a nice person and he’s smart, but he’s not my friend, just yet.”

“Sure thing.” Kihyun gives her a thumbs up and a mischievous smile. “Not to mention the sexual tension I felt between the two of you. A word of advice,” he dodges the spoon that Seulgi throws at his head, “if you are going to sleep with the guy, try not to be friends with him so it won’t complicate things. I don’t want you falling helplessly in love with someone you can’t have.”

“Shut up or else I’m going to stab you with this fork,” Seulgi growls at him. She grips the fork and points it at Kihyun like a sword. She bobs her head towards the sink. “Now get going.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, hello, annyeong! (In Shownu's voice)
> 
> I'm pretty beat at this point because of school and I've only slept a couple of hours for the past couple of days so I'll probably just enumerate certain clarifications in the story so you guys won't get confused or anything :) I'm sorry I haven't updated for more than a month it's just that I've been really busy with my reports, exams, paperworks, and I admit that Superstar JYP and Superstar SM are both consuming a lot of my time. I just discovered the app so if you're either a JYP stan or an SM stan, DO NOT TRY IT BECAUSE YOU'LL GET HOOKED AND YOU WON'T HAVE ALL THOSE PRECIOUS HOURS BACK. Anyway, going back, here are some clarifications in the story:
> 
> 1\. There is no such school as Imperium University. It's fictional. It's a university that I made up because I wasn't comfortable in using an actual university in my story in which I have no clue as to what their culture is, as to how the students act/behave like, the architecture of the buildings, the courses they offer, the nature of the disciplines they are excelling in, the teaching methods of their professors, the structure of their university administration, so I created this fictional university that is half based on my own uni and half based on other unis that I've researched on. Also, my main intention is to make the readers somehow relate to the university. I know there are college students here in AFF from all over the world. I felt that the readers wouldn't be able to fully relate, to fully place themselves in the characters' shoes if I used places with actual referents that the readers are not familiar with. I did use Yale because it's my dream school and it's pretty well-known so if someone here is attending Yale right now, please treat me sparingly. If you see some mistakes, comment about it and I'll make sure to correct it/them.
> 
> 2\. The streets aren't real. They're also fictional. The reason for this is the same as number 1. They're actually the last names of some of the authors that I've loved growing up. You'll probably encounter more of these fictional streets moving forward.
> 
> 3\. Not all of us have the same type of government. Not all governments have the same structure. There are some parts of Chapter 2.1 that you may not be able to relate to because there are types of officials that may not exist in your country, so I hope you can forgive me on that. Some of them don't exist in mine, as well. My country is not divided into states. Your country may not have districts in them. Your country may also not have a President. I tried incorporating some aspects for each type of government into one.
> 
> 4\. I bank on conversations. This story will have lots of conversations with lots of opinions. This is a pretty personal story for me and the characters are parts of me. They are the dissected me. They are the conflicts within me.
> 
> 5\. I'm still at the character development stage, still at that stage where I introduce the characters to all of you, make you know who they really are, and the story is still slooooowly unfolding so please bear with me :(
> 
> I guess these are about it. I'll add more once I'm done proofreading the chapters that are already published.


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